JonDLundyn Parker book 2 #4/2
January 1st 2007 06:49
Doggy and Randy were working in the hold stacking boxes of fish that were heavily iced down. Randy was showing Doggy how each plastic box clipped into the next. Then by spreading them across the hold they jammed in and would not move. Doggy nodded to Randy that he was ok with the work and could handle it on his own now. Both young men were tired after two nights out fishing but the strength of youth kept them going. Randy hummed a song as he worked. He did not notice that two of the boxes missed being properly clipped together. The hold was nearly full. It had been a great couple of days fishing and very unusual to be able to do so well this time of the year. Rod Dunning was in the wheelhouse plotting his course. They were about twenty-four hours from home. He would make the truck to the Friday market in plenty of time. Superstition would not let him calculate the value of his catch but he was well pleased. He glanced at the barometer on the wall behind him and winced. It was falling fast and the seas were getting up. Still well within the capability of Laura Ann but a lot could happen in twenty-four hours.
Sonja cracked open a fresh water bottle and held it for her charter as he gasped, strapped to the game chair, stoking and winding on his fish. He was into his fourth hour in the chair and the second fish for the day on the morning of their third day out. Skipper, boat and crew were waring down. So was the charter but not so the fish. It was huge, it was a record (if it could be landed) and it was lively. Guzzling greedily at the mouth of the bottle as Sonja held it his eyes never left their watch on the line. He was a good angler thought Sonja. Tough for a white-collar worker. He probably worked out in a gym in anticipation for these events. There would be many hours more to go she thought, this fish was big and tough and not likely to be lost either. They were a good team and the boat was working well but she was worried about the sea. So was the skipper. He had asked for continual reports to be given from his laptop computer that was radio linked to the Internet. The reports Sonja knew were getting grimmer by the hour. Still Beats Working was capable of over thirty knots an hour and could easily race back to port in a matter of hours.
Captain Rawlings ran a hand over his face, wiping away imaginary perspiration. It was too cold to perspire. He had three major problems happening at sea. And many minor ones close to shore. The Black Nor Easter had eventuated and almost all ports were now closed. In harbours and bays many boats had come adrift of their moorings and his squadron were doing what they could in rescuing drifting unmanned and often uncared for vessels. On almost all river bar and harbour bar headlands his volunteers had set up radio stations to monitor bar conditions. These volunteers were also acting as guides for vessels trying to make it over treacherous bars to reach home. Yachts were advised to go back out to sea and batten down, heave to and wait out the storm. Motor vessels that could do so did the same but many were pleasure boats that were dangerously low on fuel and had to make port or else be caught drifting helpless at sea. The ANSWERS crew could advise a vessel by radio how to handle the bar conditions. The conditions were atrocious and that was why the harbours were closed. But in some instances people still had to try and make it through. So far they had lost only two small cabin cruisers but no lives. It was small miracle.
Sonja cracked open a fresh water bottle and held it for her charter as he gasped, strapped to the game chair, stoking and winding on his fish. He was into his fourth hour in the chair and the second fish for the day on the morning of their third day out. Skipper, boat and crew were waring down. So was the charter but not so the fish. It was huge, it was a record (if it could be landed) and it was lively. Guzzling greedily at the mouth of the bottle as Sonja held it his eyes never left their watch on the line. He was a good angler thought Sonja. Tough for a white-collar worker. He probably worked out in a gym in anticipation for these events. There would be many hours more to go she thought, this fish was big and tough and not likely to be lost either. They were a good team and the boat was working well but she was worried about the sea. So was the skipper. He had asked for continual reports to be given from his laptop computer that was radio linked to the Internet. The reports Sonja knew were getting grimmer by the hour. Still Beats Working was capable of over thirty knots an hour and could easily race back to port in a matter of hours.
Captain Rawlings ran a hand over his face, wiping away imaginary perspiration. It was too cold to perspire. He had three major problems happening at sea. And many minor ones close to shore. The Black Nor Easter had eventuated and almost all ports were now closed. In harbours and bays many boats had come adrift of their moorings and his squadron were doing what they could in rescuing drifting unmanned and often uncared for vessels. On almost all river bar and harbour bar headlands his volunteers had set up radio stations to monitor bar conditions. These volunteers were also acting as guides for vessels trying to make it over treacherous bars to reach home. Yachts were advised to go back out to sea and batten down, heave to and wait out the storm. Motor vessels that could do so did the same but many were pleasure boats that were dangerously low on fuel and had to make port or else be caught drifting helpless at sea. The ANSWERS crew could advise a vessel by radio how to handle the bar conditions. The conditions were atrocious and that was why the harbours were closed. But in some instances people still had to try and make it through. So far they had lost only two small cabin cruisers but no lives. It was small miracle.
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